Raz
History Childhood As the flames of war began to simmer and die down, far out in the South Seas on a string of secluded islands, a miracle occurred. This miracle could not change the tides of war, could not make the wishers beautiful and wealthy and powerful beyond their wildest dreams, but it meant the world to the pair of trolls who begged for it. Cursed once by the cruelty of the Gurubashi and once again by infertility, Tal and Zeb's prayers were finally answered, and they were blessed with a baby boy to call their own. The path before them was clearer and brighter than the morning sun; they both agreed to it without a word spoken between the two of them. Regardless of what they had done or had done to them in the past, there was no need for their only child to endure the same legacy of heartache on his shoulders. Together, they would shield their son from all the evils of the world, and provide him with a simple, happy life. Happy it had been; simple it had not. Once he had grown big enough to play in the islands on his own, Raz had become infamous among his peers. Sweet, stupid Raz, who couldn't fathom the games they played, whose mouth ran a mile a minute, who loved nothing they did and everything they did not. To put it bluntly, Raz was seen as dead weight, and subjected to the kind of mindless cruelty that only a child can create. A mother's wrath could drive them away, but it could not bring them back, and he became the target of nothing more than pitying, fearful, and angered stares. And yet... If you had asked Raz if he was lonely, or unhappy, he would have stared at you as if you had grown a second head and begun preaching the virtues of the void. It was all he had ever known, and he certainly wasn't either of those things, thank you and goodbye. During the day, he would entertain himself by collecting debris and sea glass on the beach and insects in the jungle. And at night, his mother grabbed his attention by the throat and regaled him with vibrant accounts of troll history, both for their own tribe and for faraway ones like the Farraki and Amani. His parents took him fishing, they ooo'ed and aah'ed over his rock and bug collection, they sang and danced with him. Those happy days had seemed eternal, and Raz was sure they could never come to an end. Exodus Of The Darkspear The end of those peaceful days had come as surely as the executioner's axe swings towards the neck of its victim; his life had quickly and cleanly been cut into two halves, the Before and the After. For the boy whose only exposure to violence had been falls from trees and rocks to the back, all he could think to do was sit tight and wait for what he surely thought must be the end of the world... But, the world had not ended. After the orcs and humans and murlocs had left, after the volcano had its say, and after the bodies were collected (a stench that would haunt him for the rest of his life), he had been reunited with his parents. They held him and whispered sweet words of comfort, but nothing and nobody could have convinced him that things could stay as they were. Raz and his parents had survived without a single scratch on them. Their island still stood, and so did their home, and everything inside of it. These facts of life should have brought him comfort in these trying times, but they only served to make him uneasy. A seed of guilt and grief had been planted deep inside his heart, and for every day and night he spent in thought (all those dead orcs and trolls and humans and even Sen'jin, oh my) the roots spread further and further, and they surely meant to kill him if he would not acknowledge them. If... If there had been a way to stop that tragedy, he surely would have done it. A thousand times over, he would have done it. Teenage rebellion was not an uncommon thing in any corner of the world, but Raz might have been the only one whose bold statement to his parents had been picking up a bow and axe. Filled with a wealth of restless energy, a determination that could not be taken down by eyes bright with tears and declarations of 'you're too fragile and you'll get hurt so come home right this instant I'm warning you', Raz began to teach himself how to fight. As it became evident that this was not just a phase, but rather an outpouring of energy they could neither halt nor change, his parents reluctantly began to help him. By the time they had thrown their lot in with the Horde (to the Echo Isles and then to Dustwallow and back and then to the shores of Durotar, the All-New Kalimdor Road Trip), he felt he was ready to set off on his own... Of course, with the concession that he write back home as much as he could. Raz may be seen in any given area of Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdoms, doing his best to solve any problem he stumbles across. Appearance Raz is a young troll with a gangling, sparsely-defined frame and a coat of fuzzy, powder-blue fur. To the uninterested observer, he may appear to be no different from any other jungle troll meandering across Azeroth, but the illusion of normalcy is often shattered the moment he opens his mouth. We asked the people of Azeroth what they had to say, and our findings were inconclusive. He's annoying! He's rude! His honesty is admirable. I wish I could sew his mouth shut! Hey, is this for a documentary or something? In any case, here are the facts. Raz is loud and proud, with a mouth that runs a mile a minute, a laugh so piercing it could disturb poor old Thrall up in Orgrimmar, and only a cursory understanding of the Orcish language. Whatever you may think of this troll, one thing is for certain - You'll be hearing him from all the way across the Great Sea. Colored a bright gold, delicately styled until it is neither truly neat nor totally messy, towering several inches atop his head, Raz's mohawk will often draw eyes when his odd behavior does not, and he considers it to be one of his greatest accomplishments... His face, on the other hand, is not much more appealing than that of a drowned rat. Only by the power of his genuine smile can it be transformed into something passable. Green and white streaks and splotches appear across his face, their designs crude but drawn with the greatest care. A collection of silver rings gleam on his ears and his bottom lip, and multicolored chunks of sea glass are strewn about his neck. Often traveling in little more than simple leathers and brightly colored, loosely fitting cloth, Raz has been known to favor comfort over all else. As of late, however, a nasty injury has made him reconsider this, and mail armor is making its way into his life, here and there. And, of course, no hunter would be complete without his bow, or the knife in his belt, or the axe at his side. On his other side, resting snugly against his wide hips, are an assortment of cloth pouches, the contents of which are best left to the imagination. Winding around his legs and arching up to meet his hand is a tiger from the islands off the coast of Durotar who, he assures you, is completely tame. She has a leather collar with the name 'Shaka' carefully printed on the tag. And, last but not least, he is often seen with a red snake draped across his shoulders or wound around his neck, blessed with the fierce and formidable Common name of Nugget. A cute little cap resembling an orc grunt's is strapped to his tiny head. Trivia * Raz has an encyclopedic knowledge about all of the troll tribes. Ask him for a fun fact and make his day! Or don't. He'll tell you one anyways. * He is always willing to instruct young members of the Horde on how they, too, can become a master of the mohawk. * Raz follows Akunda, the loa of storms and new beginnings. Looking to him for guidance and comfort helps Raz to stay optimistic and not dwell so much on his painful past. * My name is Razmon ingame, feel free to ask any questions or just say hello! Category:Troll Category:Characters Category:Hunter